


Wolf Run

by TriscuitsandSoup



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Beta Stiles Stilinski, Full Moon, Full Shift Werewolves, M/M, Oneshot, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 03:59:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11478162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriscuitsandSoup/pseuds/TriscuitsandSoup
Summary: Peter's eyes glow red in greeting his favorite beta. “Want to go for a run?” he asks, already knowing the answer.





	Wolf Run

It's just after midnight when they drive by the house. The lights are off but a soft blue glowing eliminates from one of the windows. The police cruiser is missing from the driveway. A blue jeep sits in its usual place.

Peter rumbles out a growl. It's low and reverberates in the space of the car. The blue light fades. A few seconds later they see the window sliding open and a lanky form slip through the narrow space. Yellow eyes like a cat’s flash towards them.

Stiles yanks open the backseat of the car and gets in. He passes a mischievous grin to Peter.

“'Sup alpha,” he says. 

Peter's eyes glow red in greeting his favorite beta. “Want to go for a run?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

Instead of responding with words Stiles' grin widens and his eyes glow yellow for a second time that evening. It would be the second of many more times that night.

It doesn't take long for them to make their way to the preserve. The lamp lights were their only illumination between the dark street and it ended as soon as the paved roads gave way to dirt and gravel trails.

Chris parks as soon as the trail gets too bumpy to drive. He could go further, his Tahoe equipped to handle even the roughest of terrain, but he'd rather save the tire tread for a day when handling the terrain was a matter of life and death.

Stiles jumps out of the car first. By the time Chris rounds the vehicle a large gray and white wolf with flecks of brown dotting his coat stands above the clothing Stiles' left littered on the ground. His shoes were absent, already abandoned on the floor of the car.

Chris lets a calloused hand run over the wolf-Stiles' head, brushing a thumb over his ears, and trailing it down to his nape.

Stiles' presses against his hand and brushes up to his thigh. Stiles, Chris can't help but to think, is his favorite beta too.

A moment later and Peter slips out of the car, no longer a muscular man with stubble dotting his chin but a wolf, tall, black, and powerful. His glossy fur and red eyes reflect the moon in an almost noble way.

Stiles' ears lower slightly. He isn't cowering, he stands tall and unafraid but he knows when to show respect.

Peter acknowledges him by pressing his nose to the betas. Stiles' ducks his head and worms it underneath his alpha's chin for a forced nuzzling. Peter huffs out a wolfish laugh but gives in to the affectionate display all the same. He was always giving in when it came to Stiles.

Then, silently and without warning the two are off. They race on padded feet through the woods, disappearing between the trees, a gray and black blur of quiet pride and contented power.

Chris grabs his shotgun from the back of the Tahoe. He trusts his wolves but he can't ever be too cautious. The woods were never as quiet as they seemed.

He follows the pair for a while, stopping once or twice to take a sip from the flask he kept tucked in his jacket. It warmed his chilled bones and left a pleasant sting in the back of his throat that made the aching in his feet disappear.

Whenever he thinks he's lost them Chris waits for the tell-tale howls as they fill the night sky with their mournful song. Sometimes, more than one voice answers back and Chris wonders which of the other betas it is. Derek, who pretends like he doesn't enjoy each and every time his pack mates clamber over him. Or maybe Erica and Boyd, who shouldn't have been out so late but like Stiles, they weren't so keen to follow the rules. Perhaps it was Isaac, escaping into the night where the troubles that plagued his heart couldn't follow him.

In the morning Peter will let it slide without a single chastisement for being in the woods without first notifying him. He has to, otherwise, they might work up the courage to ask why his, Chris, and Stiles scents are always intertwined on the living room sofa.


End file.
